


¿y ahora qué?

by awildcur



Series: i love that johnny coco cruz [1]
Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildcur/pseuds/awildcur
Summary: Reader finds out she's pregnant right after Coco breaks up with her. Heartbroken, she leaves Santo Padre. A year later, she returns to town with her baby boy.(from a request on tumblr)
Relationships: Johnny "Coco" Cruz/Original Character(s), Johnny "Coco" Cruz/Original Female Character(s), Johnny "Coco" Cruz/Reader
Series: i love that johnny coco cruz [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185551
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. uno

The night Coco breaks up with you, every word he says is deliberately callous. He has every intention of making you hate him. You don’t understand, things have been going fine with the two of you. You have your ups and downs, sure, but so did every other relationship. What he doesn’t tell you, what he won’t admit, is that you were starting to scare the shit out of him. You were always there for him and he knew—the nagging voice of Celia always at the back of his mind—that one day you wouldn’t be. One day you’d decide that you’ve had enough of his shit and leave. It was inevitable. Coco knew being with him wasn’t easy.

So he goes with the obvious.

“ _All the shit going on with the MC… My life is too fucking crazy, too unpredictable for me to be with anybody… There’s no room for you. It ain’t gonna work… It’s better this way.”_

Coco spews these words harshly, the smoke from his ever present cigarette curling up around his face. His dark eyes look to you every few moments as he speaks. Long enough for you to know that he’s serious—but not for too long, otherwise he might break.

In and out. He wants it to be done with.

Coco leaves with you calling after him as you run out to your doorstep. The shout of his name interrupts the quiet night, your neighbor’s dog barking in response. He doesn’t pay any mind to any of it. He starts his bike and rides off.

You call and text him for days afterwards. You don’t want to seem desperate but you want a _real_ explanation. The couple times you stop by the scrapyard, he’s conveniently not there.

“ _Cobarde_ ,” the word slips from your mouth before you can stop it and Chucky’s sympathetic eyes watch as you huff back to your car.

You stop by a corner store on your way home, getting a few quick things. The bag feels extra heavy in your hand. You try not to think of why that is.

* * *

The two pink lines start to blur as tears well up in your eyes. Your head shakes in disbelief. _It can’t be real. It just can’t be._

But this is the second test you’ve taken. So it has to be.

There’s a baby— _Coco’s baby—_ growing inside you. Coco, who won’t even bother to give you a call or text back, is the father of your child. You cry harder.

Hours later, once you feel all cried out, you head back to the scrapyard. It was late but you knew he would be there, a weekend Mayan party in full swing. You’re greeted by Chucky, as usual. Hank also greets you with a hug and a question of “Where have you been hiding, mija?”

Coco didn’t tell them.

You playfully shrug, plastering a fake smile on your face as you answer, “Just been busy, y’know?” The two of you speak for a moment before he continues to move throughout the party.

You look around, throwing a quick “hey” in greeting whenever you come across a Mayan that knows you. You start to feel like you’re going around in circles when you finally see him.

Coco’s tucked away in the corner, almost hidden. He takes a drag of a cigarette and leans back. There’s a girl on his lap, her arm is draped around him and she whispers something to him with a coy smile. He tilts his head up to look at her and smirks before responding, his hand stroking her thigh. The girl leans forward and kisses him.

The music thumps in your ears. Everything is suddenly too much and too loud. You start to walk backwards, bumping into people. You mumble a sorry but push forward, wanting out. This is the last place you want to be.

You hurry down the steps, ignoring the stares, and walk as fast as you can back to your car.

Coco got what he wanted.

You hate him.

* * *

The next day, you sit at home thinking of what to do, how to move forward. You remember that once, before ending it with you, you had asked Coco if he ever thought of having kids. To you it was a silly question, your voice light and full of curiosity, but Coco’s face turned dark. He avoided answering but you asked him again, not realizing it was such a sensitive topic.

Coco reluctantly tells you that he already has a few kids, and to say you were surprised is an understatement. You stare at him, the bewilderment clear on your face.

“ _A few? How many is a few? We’ve been together for months, how come I’ve never met them? Why haven’t you ever mentioned them before-”_

Coco just says it’s better for everyone that he’s not involved. It’s for the best and it’s what works for him, the kids, and his baby mamas.

_Baby mamas_. Plural.

_Maybe we can start a book club_ , you think bitterly.

The memory also reminds you that you’re alone. Coco made his disinterest for his children clear before yours was even a thought. Fuck that. You don’t need him. Plenty of women raise children on their own every single day. So can you.

_But not here, not in Santo Padre_ , you decide. The MC is ingrained in practically every facet of the town, it’s overwhelming. There would be reminders everywhere—of the MC, of him. You’re too prideful and it might be selfish, but you don’t want the inevitable confrontation when he _does_ find out about your pregnancy. After everything, you don’t even want to look at him. Besides, you figure it wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway. You’re just another baby mama on his list now.

You have a childhood friend that lives in San Diego, and she has been telling you to come to the city for years. You think now is the time to finally take her up on her offer, so you give her a call.

* * *

**ONE YEAR LATER**

San Diego is expensive—far more expensive than Santo Padre—and this leads to your reluctant homecoming. You don’t want to see it as a failure but you can’t help it. Still, you’re glad you were able to experience your pregnancy in peace. Absolutely heartbroken, sure. But it would’ve been worse had you stayed in town, hormonal and seeing reminders of _him_ everywhere.

_God_ , being back in Santo Padre almost feels surreal. A year hadn’t changed the town much, if at all. Your anxiety rises as you drive along the familiar roads. It almost feels cruel that everything looks the same when your life has changed so much. It taunts you.

You hate it.

There’s a distant rumbling of engines. You peek at your rear view mirror and see two bikes coming up beside you. Quickly, you fix your eyes ahead of you and a curse escapes when you realize you’re coming up to a red light. _Fuck_.

_It’s fine. You’re overreacting. It could be any of them._

Your hands grip the steering wheel as you sit at the red light. The bikes pull up and you will yourself not to look, you really do. But you fail.

Relief washes over you. _Not him_. At least the one closest to you isn’t, the one who would be able to notice you. The patch on the back of his kutte proclaims he’s a prospect of the MC. _Good fucking luck with that_.

The light turns green and the engines roar. The obtrusive noise interrupts your son’s nap, and the small sound of whimpers come from the backseat before he lets out a loud cry.

“I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you call back to him as you drive. “That was so loud, huh? We’re almost there, I promise.”

You drive for a few more minutes, calling out soothing words to your son. Finally, you reach your house. The house where your heart was broken. The house where everything changed. You debated coming back to it, but financially it was the better choice.

Once Andrés is in your arms, he calms down. You softly wipe his tears away and kiss his chubby cheeks.

“Look, we’re here,” you announce to him.

If you think being back in Santo Padre was surreal, being back inside your house is like being transported through time. You leased it out while you were gone but the time apparently did nothing to ease the pain. The words Coco said to you that night echo in your head as you walk around the house, taking it all in.

_It ain’t gonna work… It’s better this way… There’s no room for you._

You hate him just like he wanted. Only you don’t. You hate what he said to you, what he did to you. But you could never hate _him_. One look at your son, with his big dark eyes just like his father, and you knew you never would.

* * *

Being back in Santo Padre didn’t mean you couldn’t try to have a fresh start. You decide to redecorate your house, putting the money you saved while in San Diego to good use.

You walk around the town plaza and Andrés babbles in his stroller as you window shop.

“Qué, mijo? You see anything you like?” you ask him as you stroll along.

You turn a corner and your eyes narrow as you notice a young girl wrenching her arm away from some guy. He’s holding a phone and shoves it in the girl’s face.

“You tryna tell me this ain’t you?” he questions, an ugly smirk on his face. “C’mon, baby-”

“Fuck off!” she shoves him away and he grabs at her again.

You feel disgusted as you watch people walk by without intervening. You rush over to them as fast as you can without disturbing Andrés.

“Hey, there you are!” you yell, catching their attention. The girl furrows her brow and you look from her to the boy before adding, “I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought we were meeting by the bookstore.” You raise your eyebrows, hoping she got the hint.

The boy tilts his head at you. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“I’m her aunt,” you snap at him, the lie coming out of your mouth before you even think about it. “Who the fuck are _you_?”

He looks you up and down with a sneer. “Whatever,” he rolls his eyes and pushes past you and the girl, bumping you with his shoulder. You watch him walk away with narrowed eyes. _How fucking rude._

“Thanks,” the girl’s voice gains your attention. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You lift a shoulder up in a shrug. “It was nothing,” you assure her and introduce yourself.

“I’m Letty,” she offers. “Leticia.” Then, as if she just notices the stroller, she peers over at Andrés. “Hi,” she gives him a small wave. He babbles happily in response and she laughs. “He’s so cute.”

“Thanks,” you smile back as the two of you start walking again. “Where are you headed?”

“I’m s'posed to meet my dad over by this food truck,” she points ahead. “It’s right around the corner.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she insists.

“No, you don’t, but humor me.”

Letty rolls her eyes but you see the slightest hint of a smile on her lips. The two of you round the corner and head straight for the food truck. From the distance, you don’t notice the kuttes. You’re fussing with Andrés as you walk, making sure the hot Santo Padre sun isn’t disturbing him too much.

“Hey,” you hear Letty say as you approach. “Where’s Coco?”

You falter once the words hit your ears, suddenly stopping mid-stride. Your eyes snap up to the man Letty’s speaking to but you don’t recognize him. _The prospect_. You watch as he answers her but you don’t hear what he says; your mind is running.

You knew you’d have to face him sooner or later, but this was too soon. Way too soon. You’re not ready. The year away didn’t help heal the wound, no matter how hard you tried.

Letty’s gesturing at you to the prospect and he nods at you in a greeting but you’re still too stunned to react. He leans over and says something to Andrés, your son cooing in response.

“What’s his name?” the prospect asks you, and your mind begins to clear.

“Sorry,” you respond, an amused look crossing the prospect’s face at the answer. “No, I mean I’m sorry. I, uh, fuck, I have to go,” you stammer and pull the stroller back to leave.

“You running away again?”

The voice is cold, accusatory. You lift your head up to meet his eyes, just as cold as his voice and darker than you remembered. You jut your chin at him, the fear you were feeling now replaced with anger.

“Why would I stay here?” you counter. “There’s no room for me. Remember?”

Coco’s eyes shift from yours to Andrés, squinting in confusion as he looks at your son. The confusion turns to realization, then anger. He raises his eyes and tilts his head at you in a challenge.

“Were you ever gon’ tell me?”

“Thought about it,” you admit. “When he was born. Then I remembered you telling me about your other kids… So I figured why bother,” you shrug in defiance.

“What the fuck is going on?” you hear Letty ask the prospect.

“No clue,” he answers.

“Wait, you told her about me?” Letty asks Coco.

Coco looks uncomfortably at Letty, trying to find the words to explain. You look between them, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Then Andrés begins to fuss. _Fuck_ _this_ , you need to get out.

“I have to leave. _No_ -” you cut Coco off when he opens his mouth to argue. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Coco. You wanna talk about this? Fine. You know where I live. Come find me when you’re ready to take responsibility for your shit.”

You storm off—leaving Coco, Letty and the prospect behind you.


	2. dos

For the next week after your surprise encounter with Coco, you hear the rumbling of a certain motorcycle pass by your house. But that’s all it is. No knock on the door or even a note left in your mailbox. Nothing.

_No response is a response_ , you tell yourself. Why think for even a second that you’re different from the other women he has children with? It was just you and Andrés, and it always will be. You accepted that fact.

So needless to say, you’re pretty surprised when Letty pops up on your doorstep the next Saturday.

“Uhh, hi,” you say, confusion etched across your face.

She chews on her lip, nervous, and responds, “Hi. Remember me?”

“Letty,” you nod, and her lips turn up in a slight smile. “Yeah, I remember you. How did you know-”

“EZ.”

“ _Easy?_ ”

She cocks her head to the side, and you poke your head out the door, finding the prospect sitting on his bike in front of your house. He catches your eye and gives a wave. Slowly, and even more confused than before, you wave back.

“How’d _he_ know where I live?” you question Letty.

“I guess he rode by here with Coco once,” she answers with a shrug. “Uhh, can we…?” she points behind you, inside the house.

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Sorry.” You open the door wider and she enters. You wonder for a second if you should invite the prospect in too, but you get the feeling Letty wants to talk with you alone.

Leading her to a couch in the living room, the two of you sit. You turn to her but don’t speak. Letty fidgets with her fingers, thinking over what she wants to say. You don’t want to rush her. She looks up at you and you’re almost startled at how much her dark eyes resemble Coco’s. _How had you missed that before?_

“I’m not interrupting you or the baby or anything, am I?” she asks.

“No, no, I was just cleaning up a bit. The baby’s asleep,” you give her a reassuring smile, hoping to calm her nerves. “What’s up?”

Letty takes a breath before turning to you. “You… _that day_ ,” she begins. “You said that he, that Coco, told you about me?”

“Umm, I mean, not specifically,” you tell her. “He just mentioned that he had kids.” You don’t know what she knows and want to spare her any gruesome details.

Letty nods slowly before sighing a humorless laugh. “Y’know, I didn’t even know Coco was my dad until a few months ago. I actually thought he was my brother.”

This is news to you. The surprise is clear across your face and Letty nods as if to confirm it even more.

“Celia, my grandmother, she took me instead,” she explains. “We moved back here and that’s when I found out.” She pauses for a moment. “She’s gone now, but Celia… _God_ , that bitch was crazy. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead or whatever, but if anyone deserves it, _it’s her_. She thought all I would be good for was selling my body on the street. Like I could never be better than her,” Letty scoffs and shakes her head in disgust. “And when I found out Coco was my dad… I just felt like nobody cared or wanted anything to do with me. It fucking sucks.”

Letty’s voice trails off quietly and your heart aches for the girl. Tentatively, you put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She tenses a bit but doesn’t shake you off. She gives you a tight smile before squaring her shoulders and sits up straighter.

“Look, Coco and I started off on a really fucked up start. But he’s trying. He said he wants to make it up to me, and so far… he’s been keeping his promise. I dunno what happened between the two of you-”

“Wait, did he tell you to come here?” you cut her off, growing angry that he would put her up to this. He doesn’t have the balls to talk to you directly, to own up to his shit, so he sends his daughter to do it for him?

“No! No, I’m here because _I_ wanna talk to you. He doesn’t even know I’m here, I swear,” she quickly explains. “Okay, forget about Coco. I wanna get to know my brother. Coco’s other kids, I don’t know them. I was excited when I thought I had a brother before, and now I actually do. I wanna know him. If that’s okay,” she adds the last part quickly.

Letty’s so earnest that you can’t help but smile.

“Yes,” you answer with a nod. “Of course you can.”

Letty’s smile is so bright and she thinks it might be one of the few times in her life that she’s been genuinely happy. Then she remembers, “Oh! What’s his name?”

The sudden outburst makes you laugh. “I named him Andrés.”

“Andrés,” she repeats, testing the name out. She smiles at you and says, “I like it.”

* * *

Letty comes by again the next day, dropped off by the prospect, and properly meets Andrés.

“Hi, ’mano,” she coos to him. “I’m your big sister.”

The day is spent with the two of them hanging out and getting to know each other. You just bought some new furniture for the house, and you can’t help but smile every time you hear Andrés babbling his baby talk at Letty as you work. Redecorating is still underway, but slowly getting there. You at least got to the point where looking at a certain item didn’t make you angry or sad.

Letty even gives you her opinion and helps you move stuff around whenever you need it. _I’m gonna like having her around_ , you decide.

Whenever she comes over, Letty’s never empty handed. She always either has something for Andrés, you, or the house. After a few times, you start to wonder where she’s getting everything from. As far as you know, she doesn’t have a job. When you question her, she either quickly changes the subject or tells you not to worry about it. You even ask the prospect – _EZ, you know his name now_ _–_ when you see him, but he just points to his kutte and says, “I don’t ask questions.”

_His_ name is never mentioned. You don’t ask about him, and Letty doesn’t tell you that she shows him pictures of Andrés on her phone while telling Coco everything she learns about her baby brother.

Coco knows he fucked everything up, again. A year ago, when he found out you skipped town, he was fucking pissed. But he pushed it down and forced himself to get over it, to get over you. _It would’ve never worked_ , he kept telling himself. He tried proving it to himself by fucking randoms at the clubhouse and keeping busy with the MC. He wouldn’t even admit to himself that you still linger in the back of his mind.

And then suddenly, you’re back. With a kid. _His kid_. Coco only saw him once, but he was struck at how much he looked like a perfect mix of the two of you. Shit was just starting to get better with Letty, and now this? What the fuck is he supposed to do?

Coco berates Letty when he finds out she keeps visiting you. But Letty being Letty, she’s quick to call him on his bullshit.

“You’re really gonna pull the same shit you did with me on him?” she argues back and it’s like a slap to his face. “Or are you gonna wait sixteen years to “make it up” to him, too?” Letty stomps past him and slams the door to her bedroom.

Aggravated, Coco’s jaw tenses and his eyes screw shut. There are too many things he has to get used to now. It feels like everything is piling on top of him. The MC, Galindo, Los Olvidados, a moody ass teenage daughter, and a new son. When the fuck does he catch a break?

Coco goes on a ride to clear his mind, wandering aimlessly around Santo Padre. But soon enough, he’s on your street and he slows before stopping in front of your driveway. Turning the engine off, he surveys the neighborhood, looking for anything suspicious or out of place.

His leg bounces as he debates on what to do. How does he make it up to you? _Can_ he make it up to you? Is what happened between you two beyond saving?

Fuck, going for a ride doesn’t even help. His mind won’t stop eating away at him.

Coco finds Letty in the kitchen when he gets home, a bowl of cereal in front of her, and he apologizes for yelling at her. He doesn’t want her mixed up in his bullshit, but it’s probably inevitable at this point.

“I never felt like I had family,” she explains to Coco. “All I ever had was Celia and you know how that goes,” she scoffs. “But now…” she trails off, looking up at him with soft eyes, hoping he gets it.

And he does.

She holds her phone up. “I took pictures if you wanna…”

Instinctively, Coco shakes his head, “Nah,” he starts to say but stops short.

Letty can see the uncertainty written all over his face. She unlocks her phone and pulls up the photos, tapping on a selfie she took with Andrés, his little chubby cheek squished against hers as she smiles. She wordlessly places it on the table and pushes it towards Coco.

Hesitantly, he reaches for it. The phone feels heavy in his hand as he brings it up to his face. Coco’s eyes scan every possible pixel. And when Letty swears he hasn’t blinked in well over a minute, she walks around the table to him and swipes her finger across the screen, telling him there’s more.

There’s about three or four selfies with Andrés and several more of just him. There’s even a couple videos. Letty stops on one where you’re feeding Andrés and hits play. You’re off-screen but the sound of your voice from the phone still causes Coco to pull it closer to his face, not wanting to miss anything.

In the video, you feed Andrés one last big spoonful of carrots and he gives you a big, toothless grin after you wipe his face off. “That’s it, you ate all of it!” you tell him.

“Good job, Andrés,” Letty praises in the video.

“Andrés?” the name slips from Coco’s mouth before he can stop himself.

Letty nods beside him. “That’s what she named him.”

His eyes don’t move from the screen but Coco slowly nods back in acknowledgment. 

_Andrés_.

“It’s a good name.”

* * *

A little over a week after Letty pops up, there’s a loud knock on your door late one night. You just stepped out of the shower and decided to let it go unanswered, but it becomes persistent. Worried it’ll wake Andrés, you quickly throw a robe over your body and hurry to the door.

“I’m coming,” you hiss in a low voice before pulling the door open. “What the fuck-”

With his hood pulled up, Coco looks like a lone pair of wide eyes in the dark night. You squint your eyes as you look him over, a blank stare settling on your face when you realize it’s him.

A scoff emits as you cross your arms. “What are you doing here?” you ask and lean against the door frame.

“I’m here to talk to you.”

“Oh, _now_ you wanna talk? Where have you been the ten times Letty’s been to my house this past week?”

Coco clenches his jaw and responds, “Look, I’ll spare you the details but there’s a lot of shit goin’ on with the MC right now.” You roll your eyes – _it’s been over a year and he’s still using the same old story_ _–_ and he adds, “But I’m here now, ain’t I? Better late than never and whatever the fuck else people say.”

You shake your head at his words and laugh but there’s no humor behind it. “From what I hear, late is your specialty.”

He tears his eyes away from you in shame. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m tryna work on that.” Warily, his eyes drift back to you, “So can we talk?”

You huff but move aside to let him inside the house. Your breath hitches slightly when he moves past you, and you mentally curse to yourself.

“Lemme get dressed,” you mumble to him, and take off to your bedroom before he can respond.

Your mind knows you’re mad at Coco, but your body? She’s a traitor. You quickly throw on a top and some shorts. Instinctively, you glance in the mirror to check your appearance and stop short once your hand reaches up to tousle your hair. Eyes roll at your reflection and you pull yourself away from the mirror. _What are you trying to look good for anyway?_

Back in the living room, you find Coco glancing around at your new furniture, taking note of everything you’ve changed.

“Looks different,” he comments, stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” you give a curt nod and settle on the couch in front of him.

Coco’s still standing, his frame looms over you and he glances at the empty spot next to you, unsure of himself. He finally settles on the chair across from you, and your mind is glad he decides to keep his distance.

He clasps his hands in front of him, mouth slightly parted as he tries to figure out how to start. You know words aren’t his strong suit, but you can’t help but huff in annoyance.

“Are we gonna talk or what, Johnny?”

Coco grimaces at the name. His fingers run through his long hair, knocking his hoodie back, and he settles on what has been plaguing him the most, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“When was I supposed to tell you?” you argue back. “When you wouldn’t answer my calls? When you ignored all my texts? Or maybe-” you lean forward, eyes glaring and voice low, “-when I went to the clubhouse the day I found out I was pregnant, and saw you with some sucia all over your lap.” You allow the words to hang in the air before adding, “Was I still supposed to tell you then, Johnny? When your tongue was down her throat?”

Coco bows his head, brows pulled tightly together. He winces when he thinks about how you must’ve felt, the anger he feels at himself rising inside him. The words are harsh but he can’t blame you for how hurt you sound, and he hates that he’s the reason your pretty face is screwed up in such anger.

“I’m sorry you saw that,” he whispers.

You settle back with a scoff. The vision of Coco with that girl played in your mind for weeks afterwards.

“Seriously,” he defends. “If I had known-”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“You dunno that,” he claims with such certainty. “I was scared, okay? I can admit that now. _You_ scared me,” he confesses. “But good shit never lasts long for me. It never has. Everything gets fucked up sooner or later.”

The room feels heavy and you both fall silent. Neither of you can look the other in the eye. Your shiny new clock ticks away on the wall, the faint sound of each second passing second is like a countdown until the silence is broken.

“You broke my heart, Coco,” you finally say, voice barely above a whisper. “I had to go through everything alone. Every doctor visit, every check up. Fuck, I didn’t even get to have a real baby shower,” you scoff. “I always heard how a woman’s first pregnancy is such a beautiful experience, but I was fucking miserable.”

Tears sting your eyes and you try your best to not let them fall. You sniff loudly and Coco is off the chair and next to you in a second. You push him away, not yet ready to be so close to him. He pulls back but squats down in front of you, gazing up into your tearful eyes.

“Tell me how to fix this,” his voice cracks with emotion.

You rub a hand over your face and shake your head, “I dunno if you can.”

“Whatever you want me to do, corazón. I don’t wanna keep making the same mistake. I’m tired of being a fuck up. Whatever you need from me, for yourself or for Andrés, I’ll do it. I’ll try my best, I fucking promise you,” the sorrow is evident in his voice but Coco’s words are spoken with firm conviction.

Still, you’re doubtful. You want nothing more than for his words to be true, but you can’t help yourself. Unsure how to respond, you just ask-

“How do you know his name?”

Despite the heaviness between you two, Coco’s lips pull up slightly, “Letty,” he answers.

You throw your head back, nodding in acknowledgment. A small laugh falls from your lips, “Of course.”

“She really likes you, y’know. She keeps tellin’ me I fucked up big time,” he jokes lightly.

“She’s a smart kid,” you can’t help but retort.

“Yeah, she is,” he nods.

Silence falls between you again, and you realize just how close Coco is to you. Not too close, but close enough to reach. His eyes search yours and you’re suddenly filled with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time. You tear your eyes away.

“It’s late,” you sigh.

Coco nods and stands from his position. He looks over you, wishing he could erase all the hurt he’s caused.

“I mean it,” he insists. “Whatever you need me to be… a friend or a father… I’ll do it. I’ll give you all I got, mamita.”

* * *

After a couple days, Coco meets Andrés. He brings him a stuffed tiger and the rest of the MC. You’re surprised to see them all there, but they all greet you warmly, as if you never left.

“ _It’s good to see you again, mija.”_

“ _You need anything, you know who to call.”_

“ _Where’s the little one?”_

You don’t want to overwhelm your child with so much leather at once, so you take Coco alone to his room first. You gently place Andrés in his arms, your son still waking from a nap, and he snuggles into Coco.

“Hey,” he whispers quietly to Andrés. “Hey, chiquito. I’m Coco,” he pauses for a moment, carefully considering his next words, and finally adds, “I’m your dad.”

You swallow hard at the sight. Your son’s little fist clutches around Coco’s finger, and he continues whispering to Andrés as he holds him.

The rest of the MC follow, a few at a time. You can’t help but laugh as the big, bad men fawn over your child.

Coco stays behind when they leave. “Yo, I’ll catch up,” he tells Angel and Gilly before returning inside the house. He finds you in the nursery changing Andrés. Leaning against the door frame, he watches you for a beat before speaking. “Thank you. I know we… We still got a lot to work on… whatever it is we’re doing. But thanks for this.”

You look at him and shrug, “Yeah, of course.”

Coco bites his cheek before pushing off the frame, “Uh, I’m headin’ out. If you need me-”

“I know, Coco,” you tell him softly.

He gives you a tight smile, whatever questions he has going left unasked, and follows his brothers.

As days turn to weeks and weeks to months, you decide to keep a safe distance from Coco. You’re never uncivil, but you never let it go beyond a quick hug or a kiss on the cheek. As much as you try to tell yourself otherwise, you miss him. But you have to put Andrés first. Whatever you and Coco are doing, whatever it can be called – just friends or co-parenting – it’s best to keep it that way. For your son.

Almost two months after returning to Santo Padre, you’ve finally settled into a rhythm. Coco comes by to see you and Andrés often, sometimes with Letty. You’re wary when one day Coco asks to bring him to the clubhouse, but Letty backs him up and you wind up giving in.

“Not for too long,” you command and they agree.

Being back in the clubhouse after so much time feels strange. The last time you set foot inside – well, you don’t want to remember. You force the memory away.

You can’t help the amusement that pulls at your lips as the guys crowd around Andrés. He gets passed around to each of his tíos, pulling on a few beards and smiling at all the attention.

Even the sucias that hang around are admiring your son, and your eyes narrow in annoyance when you notice he’s enjoying it a little too much for your liking.

“Damn, he’s already a lil’ player, huh? Just like his pops,” Angel jokes.

Instinctively, your eyes shoot daggers at Angel and Coco turns to glare at him. He gives a meek shrug and mumbles a “sorry” to you before shuffling back to the bar. You can’t roll your eyes harder if you try.

Later, when you’re sitting at the bar with Letty, she suddenly leans over and whispers, “Y’know, he hasn’t been with anyone since you came back.”

Your brows furrow in concern as you take in her words. “I don’t even wanna know why or how you know that,” you respond.

Letty rolls her eyes and looks to EZ, behind the bar. She raises her eyebrows at him and he just nods to confirm what she said.

“It’s true,” he agrees.

Letty nods vigorously, a smile gracing her lips.

_Oh, I see._

She wants to play matchmaker, like you’re in some kind of weird, biker version of the _Parent Trap_. You have to admit, it’s cute. But you don’t have the heart to tell her it can’t happen.

* * *

When Coco goes on a run, Letty ends up staying with you. The two of you have grown close, and it’s not even a question you have to think twice about.

The wind howls loudly one night while Coco’s away. Letty had insisted on watching _Halloween –_ ignoring your protest of “it’s not even October!” - and now you’re suspicious of every little noise.

You’re in the kitchen after midnight drinking tea, unable to fall asleep, and scrolling aimlessly through your phone out of boredom. The wind continues to shriek, making you uneasy, and you swear you hear something – _someone?_ \- outside.

The sudden knocks at your door aren’t that loud but they still startle you well enough, causing your phone to clatter to the floor.

“Fuck!” you curse.

You sigh loudly and wait, not entirely convinced it’s not all in your imagination. The knocks come again, and you creep slowly towards the door. You look through the peephole and a deep breath of relief rushes out of you. You pull the door open so swiftly, you even scare Coco and he stumbles back.

“What are you doing here?” you question in a loud whisper.

“Jus’ got back.”

“You can’t call, Johnny? You scared the shit outta me!”

“My bad,” he mumbles. “Cell died.” You groan and he adds to explain, “I saw the light on.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you huff.

Coco’s brow puckers in concern, “Y’all good? Did something happen?” he grills you while looking over your appearance.

“Nah, everything’s fine. We just watched a scary movie and I let it get to my head, that’s all,” you finish with an eye roll.

Coco stops his inspection. He blinks in realization and breathes a small laugh. “Yeah, I remember you don’t do good with scary,” he says, remembering the times you would cling to him and cover your face whenever he made you watch a horror movie.

You laugh, despite yourself. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll ever change.”

Coco licks his lips and your eyes follow the movement. They drift to scan his face. He looks tired. Dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped forward.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, I was jus’ letting you know I’m back. Goodnight,” he says softly, and turns to make way to his bike.

He’s halfway down the driveway when you find your voice to call out, “Hey, Coco!”

Coco looks over his shoulder, eyes wide in curiosity.

“You, uh, you wanna crash here tonight?”

His brows rise at your unexpected invitation. “You okay with that?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and explain, “You look ready to pass out. I’m not gonna let the father of my child go off, possibly get into a wreck and kill himself. No matter what happened between us.”

The tone of your voice leaves room for no argument and Coco raises his hands to concede. “Yes, ma’am.”

You look at him minutely and quip, “You’re sleeping on the couch anyway,” before turning back into the house. Coco follows you, a tired smile stretching across his face.

You bring him a blanket, and Coco’s kutte is already off and he’s lying peacefully on the couch. You think he’s already asleep until you cover him.

“So you don’t completely hate me, do you?”

His eyes are closed, but you still look at his face when you softly answer, “I could never hate you, Coco.”

“Wouldn’t blame you,” he hums. “I deserve it.” A big yawn escapes his lips and he pulls the blanket tighter around him. His voice soft and full of sleep, he mumbles, “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. You tell yourself he won’t even remember this in the morning, still scared of giving your heart to him again.

“Goodnight, Coco,” you whisper to him before stepping back and finally going to bed.

* * *

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

It’s your baby’s first birthday. You can’t fucking believe it. When Andrés wakes up, you cuddle him and smother his little face with kisses.

“I can’t believe it’s been a whole year! Oh, mijo, stop growing up so fast,” you tell him and he blubbers back to you. You decide to take that as his agreement.

“Heyyy,” you hear Coco call as he enters the room. “Is the birthday boy up already?”

Andrés face lights up in a smile when he sees Coco and holds his arms out to him.

“Come to papi, mijo,” Coco says as you place the baby in his arms.

You and Coco have lived together for a few months. But getting to this point was far from easy. Your mind was riddled with doubts and Coco did everything he could to keep them away. You’re both stubborn as hell – Coco argues you’re worse than him and you refuse to admit he’s probably right. It was a long process, but the two of you are getting stronger every day.

The morning after he crashes on your couch, before he leaves and you have a moment alone together, he tells you he meant what he said. You attempt to play dumb but he knows better.

“I ain’t ever been good with words. Or emotions,” he admits to you. “But I can’t lie to myself and act like I don’t have feelings for you.”

He leaves you with a kiss on the cheek and your head spinning. Part of you curses yourself for not turning your head and capturing his lips in a real kiss. The other part is wary of opening this can of worms again, even though everything in your being tells you you want to.

It’s weird to call it dating when you already share a child. Coco ends up in your bed first, when you finally decide to throw caution to the wind and do something that makes you feel good.

And _fuck_ , did it make you feel good.

When Letty finds out, she just yells a “finally!” and tells EZ to pay up.

“We had a bet,” she shrugs when you stare at her quizzically.

“Damn, why didn’t you tell us? We would’ve wanted in on that action,” Angel pipes up, pointing to himself and Gilly.

You roll your eyes at him, and Gilly when he nods in agreement.

Coco sucks his teeth and slaps Angel on the back of his head. “Baboso,” he mutters to him.

The club is happy for you though. They keep saying how good you are for Coco, and are always there if you need something for Andrés.

You argue with Coco about having Andrés’s birthday at the clubhouse at first, but he wins you over. _He seems to be doing that a lot lately._

“All his tíos can’t wait to see him. Letty’s getting him a cake,” he persuades you. “He’ll have a good day, mama, I promise.”

With Andrés in his arms, Coco leans towards you and whispers, “And patches only. No sucias.”

He grins when you raise an intrigued brow, knowing you can’t argue with that. He leaves you with a kiss and turns to get Andrés ready for the day.

* * *

You don’t think the clubhouse has ever looked so clean.

“Boy Scout has been hard at work,” Coco smirks.

You thank EZ for all his grunt work when you see him, knowing it must’ve taken him forever. He waves you off like it was no big deal, ever the gentleman.

In the back of your mind, you worry the MC is going to spoil your son rotten. You told everyone they didn’t have to get Andrés anything, but the pile of gifts that accumulate tells you they paid no attention to that.

You chalk it up to the fact that it’s your son’s birthday, but you haven’t felt so happy in a long time. Andrés is everything to you, and seeing his little face light up at what has become his family, your heart swells.

You’re licking icing off your fingers when Letty comes up and conspiratorially whispers, “Soooo, any chance I’ll get a baby sister? Maybe another brother?”

Laughter erupts from your throat. “I can’t make you any promises,” you answer.

When she pulls a disappointed face and walks off, Coco strolls up, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His lips at your ear, he teases, “We can still try making a brother or sister, though. Can’t we?”

More laughter falls from your lips as you turn to look at him. His smile is bright and you kiss him softly. You hear some of the guys tease in the background, but neither of you care.

You pull back and playfully answer, “All you want, baby.”


End file.
